


Morning Star

by superbrat (justiceleague)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Smut, bc y'all know Bruce, bruce loves dick so fucking much, it's basically a PWP designed to make you sad and then happy what can I say
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 13:36:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17643827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justiceleague/pseuds/superbrat
Summary: “Do you know what the morning star is?”“Mmm?” Dick asks, sleepily. “I mean, I think so, but the fact that you’re asking makes me think you want to explain it to me anyway, so let’s just go with no.”“It’s the first light, signaling the encroaching dawn.” Bruce rumbles, voice still sex-deep and heavy. “It’s the brightest thing in our sky besides the sun and moon themselves. For some, it’s a beacon of hope, that the darkness is retreating in the wake of its brilliance.”





	Morning Star

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GwenhwyfarRaven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenhwyfarRaven/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



Bruce pulls Dick closer, a grip in his hair, mingling their breaths, touching their heads; teasing with their intimate proximity, but not making the first move.

  
_Why do I let this happen?_  
  
Dick surges forward, mouth making contact, moan breaking forth like a tidal wave. The kiss immediately turns sloppy, no refinement in the desperation shared between them.  
  
Dick is fisting his shirt, tugging at the buttons, pulling it off him with a determined and needy efficiency, and Bruce finds himself mirroring that in the frantic  _tug_ he applies at his pants, despite his other hand pressing Dick far too close to him to be able to remove anything.

* * *

  
“ _Bruce, how many have you had?” Dick had asked him, pulling the nearly empty bottle away with concerned raise of his eyebrow._  
  
_Don’t ask, Bruce had thought. Please, you shouldn’t even be here, not right now. I don’t deserve it._  
  
“ _Jesus, Bruce, what’s wrong? Come here -_ ”

* * *

  
Dick throws his head back in a keen as Bruce sucks at his throat, knee wedging up between his legs as his late-evening scruff rasps at Dick’s delicate jawline.  
  
_Perfect, beautiful, gorgeous, resplendent -_ Bruce chants in silent reverie, mentally worshiping every dip and curve of Dick that he can get his mouth on.  
  
He pulls back, just a little, to see the blossoming bruise he had marked on his neck, a deep purplish-red.  
  
_Tainted. With your soiled, unworthy hands._

* * *

  
_Bruce normally didn’t drink. Drinking clouded judgement, reduced the body’s natural reaction time and critical thinking skills -_  
  
_But tonight he didn’t care._  
  
_Tonight he needed to indulge, to wipe at the guilt eating at him for all his other “indulgences,” to drown them in the bottom of his glass._  
  
_He needed to be alone and to wallow, to yell at himself, to scream all the things Dick should, but never, ever would._

* * *

  
“God, Bruce, please,” Dick whispers, clutching at Bruce like a lifeline.  
  
Bruce buries himself in the nape of Dick’s neck, tongue poking out to taste at the natural sweetness of _him_ there.  
  
He cants his hips upward, slotting himself right alongside Dick, evoking a hiss from him as he takes both their lengths in one hand.  
  
His grip is gentler than he normally allows for himself, permitting none of his brutal self-punishment to be inflicted on Dick. He gathers the fluid leaking from their tips, easing the way so he can provoke all the little noises that come tumbling out of Dick with every pass of his fist.  
  
Dick reaches both his hands around Bruce’s head, commanding his focus by tilting it towards his own face, drawing him in to reclaim his mouth.

* * *

  
_Dick shouldn’t have come for him; but he always did._  
  
_He should have stayed far away._  
  
_Bruce hated himself, because he knew he’d never do what’s best for Dick, never ensure he kept his distance._  
  
_Far worse than that, he knew he would keep drawing him in, keep trapping him, all while wishing he wasn’t quite so selfish._  
  
_Because he loved him._  
  
_It wasn’t pure, it wasn’t good. He had no right to those feelings, to those words._  
  
_And he would never offer them to Dick. Dick deserved to hear them, but not from him; if he ever spoke them, it would be turning the key in the lock to Dick’s cell._  
  
_If Dick knew, he would say it back, and Bruce would never let him go._

* * *

  
Dick tips Bruce backwards, falling with him onto the bed, chest to chest, legs intertwined. He slides himself forward, arching up until he’s sitting, perched over Bruce’s hips so he can _grind_ against him.  
  
Bruce’s hands fly up to grab at his waist, steadying him. Dick reaches his hands around to grasp at Bruce’s wrists, a loose hold, just running the pads of his fingers against the skin.  
  
“ _Bruce,_ ” he moans, a plead, as Bruce bucks himself back against Dick, meeting his thrusts.  
  
_I never want this to end. I don’t want to stop. I can’t. I can’t. He’s mine._  
  
The rise and fall of Dick’s body, undulating, tinged-blue in the moonlight, is a vision; the only thing Bruce needs to begin cresting that wave, riding higher and higher -  
  
He whites out.

* * *

  
_“Bruce, I wish you wouldn’t do this.” Dick had said, taking his glass away from him. “Not when I’m right here. You can talk to me instead of bottling it all up and getting wasted.”_  
  
_God, Bruce wished that he could. He wished he could be what Dick wanted him to be, instead of this pitiful fool, in misery over wanting what he was given, because his conscience refused to allow him otherwise._  
  
_His longing and his guilt was a goddamn shadow, looming over his shoulder, threatening to overtake him; a double edged sword, painful no matter what he chose to do. A suitable punishment for daring to want in the first place._  
  
_He couldn’t go to Dick, because this was how it should be. And Dick would only make it better. Dick would make him forget, even if only for a little while, the darkness threatening to consume him._  
  
_Dick’s face scrutinized his uncomfortably, appearing unsettled at what he recognized from Bruce’s expression. He offered a hand to Bruce._  
  
_Bruce took it, unable to resist Dick for anything, even something as simple as this. He stood, and Dick pulled him near, hand tangling with his as he gave Bruce no room to turn away from his unrelenting gaze._  
  
_“Come back to me.” He said, ordering Bruce from the murky depths of his thoughts, a dull beam piercing through the haze of his mind, telling him he was approaching the shore._

* * *

  
They lay together in the afterglow, temperatures still high and heartbeats still elevated, Dick nestled in the crook of his neck, half atop him.  
  
Bruce turns towards the window, and catches a glimpse of Venus, twinkling alone in the sky.  
  
“Do you know what the morning star is?”  
  
“Mmm?” Dick asks, sleepily. “I mean, I think so, but the fact that you’re asking makes me think you want to explain it to me anyway, so let’s just go with _no_ .”  
  
“It’s the first light, signaling the encroaching dawn.” Bruce rumbles, voice still sex-deep and heavy. “It’s the brightest thing in our sky besides the sun and moon themselves. For some, it’s a beacon of hope, that the darkness is retreating in the wake of its brilliance.”  
  
Bruce is silent a moment, Dick’s head slowly rising every time he inhales. He rotates, the smallest bit, and rests his lips against Dick’s forehead.  
  
“My Morning Star,” he murmurs, low and vulnerable, bleeding honesty in every syllable.  
  
In his strong grip, he can feel Dick stop breathing, hear the sharp catch of air in his throat.  
  
Bruce turns his words into a kiss against his head, as if branding the truth of of them into Dick’s skin.  
  
Dick makes a noise in the back of his throat, soft and off-guard, and Bruce can’t but help smiling at him.  
  
Within a few minutes, the first golden rays of the dawn come peeking through the parted curtain, casting a hazy glow over Dick, highlighting the sweat that still covers his body with their pale, orange gleam.  
  
Dick’s eyes are drooping shut as Bruce watches him, and he is smiling back at him, exhausted but sated, contentment radiating off him. His voice is a muted mumble, tired and fading, but Bruce still catches the last words he mutters before drifting off.  
  
“I love you too, Bruce.”

**Author's Note:**

> hi fuck you guys for getting me on this train and making me want to write this in the dead of night. you know who you are.
> 
> also check out my brudick [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/slytherink/playlist/2Kd2B6c4iYa48hxWHisMiO?si=NCGMJHQZRC-gyXHUBC_oUw) if you wanna get emotional.


End file.
